


a day at the beach

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Beach Volleyball, Beaches, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 09:09:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty goes with some friends to the beach, Miller also goes with some friends to the beach, they meet in the middle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a day at the beach

**Author's Note:**

> Sent in as an anonymous request on Tumblr!

****

Monty stretched out on the towel under the umbrella, frowning at Clarke who was laying on her stomach with the ties of her bathing suit undone. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d agreed to a beach day considering the sun hated him and he burned on a normal spring day (even if it was overcast slightly—which it was), but Clarke barely left her dorm room as it was so he savored his time with her.

Jasper was to his left, also stretched out in the sun. Monty was the only one under the umbrella. “You’re both just _trying_ to get skin cancer,” Monty told them as he flipped open his book.

“I’m wearing sunscreen,” Clarke responded pointedly.

“I’m not,” Jasper said. “Bring on the cancer!” Monty rolled his eyes at his friend before finding the sentence he’d last left off on. Their university wasn’t too far from the beach so weekends out by the ocean weren’t out of the ordinary, especially now that it was getting warmer.

Harper and Monroe had come with them as well but the two were down by the waves, shrieking as the cold water lapped at their ankles. Wells was there too, his stuff spread out on the other side of Clarke’s, but he’d gone to get to get some lunch about fifteen minutes ago and hadn’t been back yet.

“You think he got attacked by seagulls?” Monty asked, thinking of Wells.

“Probably found an overturned trashcan and stopped to pick it all up,” Jasper chimed.

“Oh, leave him alone,” Clarke said with a little laugh. She propped herself up then, crowding her top to her chest as she sat up. “See? He’s right there.”

Wells was, in fact, right there. He had a cup of French fries in his hand as he made his way across the sandy beach. To his left was a girl that Monty faintly recognized but he couldn’t quite figure out why. It took the two of them a little bit to cross the sand but soon they arrived at their little spot.

“Look who I found,” Wells said with a smile.

“Hi Raven,” Clarke said, greeting the girl. Ah, that was how Monty knew her. He remembered clearly when Clarke called him in tears, explaining that Finn had _another_ girlfriend. Turned out the other girlfriend was pretty cool, so he’d met Raven a few times. “Here alone?”

“No, some of my friends are parking,” she told her. “Wells said we could set up near you, that okay?”

“Oh definitely,” Clarke said.

Monty retreated back to his book as the two girls caught up. Both of them had cut Finn out of their lives completely but they weren’t the closest. They were in very different programs at school and both were demanding, hardly had time for breaks. Like today. Raven pinged her location to some of her friends and soon enough the quiet beach that Monty had been enjoying was filled with hooting and hollering humans.

Raven’s friends were mostly boys and Monty was instantly annoyed. All he’d wanted to do was go to the beach and sit in the shade and read, and now there were way too many attractive boys with their shirts off just a few yards away from him. Clarke seemed to notice Monty’s wrinkled nose and laugh, reaching her hand into the shade to squeeze his hand.

“Just enjoy it, Monty,” she told him with a laugh as she laid back out. “I know I am.”

* * *

Miller loved the beach. He loved getting out of those old, stagnant dorms at Arkadia University and he loved the ride with his friends where Raven blasted music from the driver’s seat and Octavia sang along in the passenger seat. He loved the way Bellamy’s nose wrinkled as he pretended not to laugh at them, like he wasn’t having just as much fun as them. Miller even loved Murphy, stretched out in the back, complaining that the jeep didn’t have air conditioning.

He loved the beach so much that he found himself a little _too_ caught up in the game of Frisbee he and Bellamy and Octavia were playing. Which led to him running and falling into an umbrella, catching the end of one of the prongs on his cheek below his eye.

Then there was grunting, falling onto the sand, and landing next to a boy who was entirely too good looking to be hiding in the shade. Miller blinked hard, fumbling for the Frisbee before halfheartedly tossing it in the direction of Octavia.

“You okay?” the boy asked, sitting up on his towel and putting down the book in his hand. Orwell, Miller noticed. Nice. “At least you didn’t knock the umbrella over,” the boy added, leaning toward him. “You’re one of Raven’s friends?”

“Miller,” he answered with a nod.

“Monty,” the boy returned. He stretched forward, his hand casually cupping Miller’s cheek as he tipped his chin back to study where Miller’d been stabbed. “Broke the skin,” Monty told him, his thumb carefully gliding across the tender area of Miller’s cheek. “But I don’t think it’s bleeding.”

“Hurts like hell,” Miller muttered. Monty dropped his hold on him before reaching for a nearby cooler, pulling out a can of Mountain Dew for Miller to hold to his cheek. “Thanks,” he said, accepting the can before lifting it to his skin. He slumped a little. “Can I sit here for a second?”

“Be my guest,” Monty said, scooting back on his towel to allow him more room.

The right side of Miller’s face was throbbing. “Fuck _me_ ,” he muttered under his breath, closing his right eye tightly as though that would block some of the pain.

“All for a Frisbee,” Monty said with a smile. “And you didn’t even catch it.”

“Well if you were a normal person,” Miller responded, “you wouldn’t have an umbrella on the beach on a barely-sunny afternoon. So I’m choosing to blame you.”

Monty huffed. “I burn easily,” he responded.

Miller felt his lips pull into a smile.

* * *

It turned out that Monty actually did _not_ want to read his book. Instead he wanted to talk to the hot guy who basically fell on top of him while trying to catch a Frisbee. Because, surprise, the hoy guy was more than hot. He pointed out Monty’s book a few minutes into sharing a towel in the shade, talking about how he himself was an English major and though he enjoyed Orwell he understood where some of his critics came from. He’d gotten into a long discussion about a specific message Orwell was trying to relay when Monty had to admit he was mostly just reading for pleasure.

“Reading for pleasure and analyzing what you’re reading go hand in hand.”

“My brain can’t do all of that,” Monty said with a laugh. “It’s a little too caught up in thermodynamic equations to think about a giant analogy.”

“Your loss,” Miller said, but still with a smile.

He too went to Arkadia so Monty was pleased with the fact that they might end up running into one another on campus one day. It turned out he knew Finn too, and though he was just as much an asshole as Monty did. It was long after Miller lowered the cold soda can from his cheek (there was just a scratch that remained, no swelling or bruising at the moment) did someone march over.

“You done flirting yet?” Murphy asked, ducking his head under the umbrella to look at Miller. “Because Bellamy’s not playing unless you’re playing too.”

If Miller was embarrassed by the suggestion, _flirting_ , it didn’t show. “We don’t have a net,” Miller answered.

“Net?” Monty asked.

“Volleyball,” Miller answered. “And I’m not walking to the courts,” he said, directing his attention back to Murphy. “Why’s he need me to play?”

“Says you’re his only real competition.”

Miller snorted. “Don’t let Octavia hear him say that.” After a beat. “Figure something out and I’ll play.” With a frown and a grunt Murphy walked away, probably to confer with Bellamy (who was a little busy talking to Clarke who’d ended up tying her top back on so she could sit up) about what to do. He turned back to Monty then before leaning back. “You play?” he asked.

“Volleyball?” Monty wondered, and then laughed. “Sports and I don’t get along. I’m more a chess club type of guy. Do you?”

“Not for the school or anything,” Miller said. “Bellamy and I compete in doubles tournaments though. We’re alright. I’m definitely better than he is.” Monty smiled at that and he shrugged. “Beach volleyball’s a little harder though. With the sand.”

“I can imagine.” They were quiet for a moment. “So you’re an English major,” Monty said, ticking off on his fingers. “A volleyball player. Anything else I should add to my collection of Miller knowledge?”

“You can call me Nate,” he said with a smile, pushing himself off of his elbows so he could sit up. Murphy was motioning Miller over to the makeshift net that Raven and Octavia were setting up. “And I’m single.”

Monty felt his stomach swoop as Miller grinned, pushing himself from the shade of the umbrella to join his friends on their makeshift court. Miller was gone all of thirty seconds when Jasper rolled across the sand, out of the sun and under the shade onto Monty’s towel, saying, “ _Dude_!”

* * *

Miller was good at most things he did. He and Bellamy were a pretty good doubles team when it came to volleyball, but honestly Miller preferred playing with Octavia. She was better than Bellamy. Not that Miller would ever _say_ that, because Bellamy was his partner, but she most definitely was.

Things turned out in his favor because they were playing two on two. Miller and Octavia against Bellamy and Murphy. And Murphy wasn’t great. And Monty was watching, which meant he had to do well. Because impressing the hot nerdy boy who burned when it was overcast was definitely on his list of things to do today.

“Don’t fuck up,” Octavia told Miller as Murphy chased after the ball Octavia’d just spiked. “I’m trying to impress the lifeguard.”

“No problem. I’m trying to impress the guy in the shade.”

Octavia’s eyes scanned until she found Monty sitting up with a little smile. “What’s with you dudes with swooshy hair?” she asked.

Miller craned his neck to look at the lifeguard chair. “Like you don’t have a thing for massive body-builders or anything.”

“I just like thinking about the things they could do to me,” Octavia said, arching her eyebrows playfully.

“I’m pretending I didn’t hear that.” Murphy rolled the ball under the net to Miller who was serving. “We really have to sign up for a doubles comp together.”

“Bellamy’ll kill us,” Octavia said as he got ready to serve. “He’s possessive, you know that!”

“We’ll just have to make sure that pretty blonde distracts him,” Miller chimed before serving.

“I can _hear_ you,” Bellamy said back, striding forward to set the volleyball back over the net.

* * *

“He’s your type,” Harper chimed as she lowered herself next to Monty. She used his towel to dry off her feet. Monroe was out in the sun, sitting with Clarke as they watched the ball go back and forth.

“Right?” Monty agreed. “Completely out of my league.”

“Except _not_ ,” Jasper said from his place out of the shade. “He was hitting on Monty, I heard the whole thing.”

Harper laughed and nudged Monty a little too hard with her elbow. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, kid.” Miller jumped up then, spiking down one of Octavia’s sets, causing Bellamy and Murphy to go diving into one another. “If I was into guys,” Harper said, “he’d probably be my type too.”

* * *

To absolutely no one’s surprise (except maybe Bellamy’s who really thought he was a better volleyball player than he was), Miller and Octavia won the game. Halfway through (unintentionally, seriously) Miller tore his shirt off and tossed it to the side. And that’s where he was now, using his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face while Octavia went off to approach the lifeguard who’s tag read _Lincoln_. When Miller lowered his shirt he found Monty standing there, a bottle of water in his hand being offered.

“Look who braved the sun,” Miller said, accepting the bottle.

“It’s overcast anyway,” Monty said, waving it off. Miller smiled as he unscrewed the cap to the bottle and lifted it to his lips. Monty turned to watch Raven dragging Wells out onto the sand, tossing the volleyball to him despite his protests. “Good game,” Monty told him.

“It was an easy win.”

“Oh, don’t do that,” Monty said with a little laugh. “ _I’m Nate and I’m good at everything_ ,” Monty said in a voice that was probably meant to mock Miller’s. “ _My wins don’t mean anything because I win all the time_.”

Miller arched an eyebrow, annoyingly happy that Monty had called him Nate. “I _am_ good at everything,” Miller said pointedly. Anything that included volleyball and English. Other than that he probably sucked at it. But, fake confidence was great confidence. “And I _do_ win all the time.”

“Show off.”

“Extremely,” Miller agreed. He screwed the cap back onto the water bottle before passing it back to Monty. “Don’t challenge me to chess,” he said, and Monty laughed a little bit again. “I like having you think I’m well-rounded and have many usable skills.”

Monty laughed another time, and Miller decided he was going to do everything he could to hear it again.

* * *

“I’m bad at this,” Monty said when the afternoon sun started to fade into the evening. Miller looked over at him, an eyebrow arched. The two groups of friends had merged into one, everyone sitting on everyone else’s towels, stretched out across from one person’s space to another. “Can I get your number?”

Miller licked his lips before they parted in a smile, and then he reached around blindly until he found his phone. “If I can have yours,” he said. They traded phones and traded numbers before sinking into a pleasant silence.

“So,” Monty basically hummed as they stretched out, laying on his towel. “English major. Volleyball player. Single. Looks good shirtless.” Monty was ticking off on his fingers again. “Probably not very good at chess.”

“Definitely not very good at chess,” Miller corrected.

“Anything else?”

Miller thought for a minute before saying, “Pretty into guys who are good at chess and are scared of the sun.”

Monty laughed. “Then I know just the guy,” he told him.

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably just start a fic that has all the little Minty things I write? but oh well here we are


End file.
